Keeping the World Weird and Wonderful

forbidden love

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I know space can be cold and dark
a vacuum scarce on particles
and when you’re in the black
it might feel like death
the misery expands from you
with nothing to hold it back
and at the same time you can’t breathe
trying to gasp but there’s nothing
only your rising, then fading, heartbeat
to make the slightest semblance of noise
in your ringing ears
that burst from the pressure changes.
But before you give in,
let me offer you this lunar landing module:
if you must die,
wouldn’t you like to walk on the Moon first?

Like a nebula you surround me
in a cloak of forming stars,
setting sail on astral vapors
across the heavenscape;
you softly light
in clouds’ delight
a cosmologic scene:
a cerulean sphinx, a verdant cove,
or eyes aquamarine,
a crimson girl with umbrous curls who delves the velvet deeps;
if this be dream,
then may I never waken from this sleep.

Within the deeping pockets,
I can spy chaotic scenes:
as the forming stars are burning,
as the gases storm and keen,
colossal
elemental forces are at work within,
sublime;
and I love you,
every particle:
we are fleeting, and we
did/do/will exist
at every point,
and past
the ends
of time;
my nebula,
my starscape,
my sea of astral rhyme.

What essences I have dreamed,
what hearts and souls I have schemed,
What darknesses I have screamed,
I do not know;
what beauty I have made,
what shimmerings in the shade,
what wistfulness I have bade,
oh my soul;
what Whitmans I have been,
Dickinson again and again,
I’ve been wallflower, I’ve been spin,
and this grows;
you don’t drain the Poe out of me,
you give it heart and you set it free,
can I say, “What will be, will be?”
I do not know;
what dreams had I given up on,
how many times cursed the dawn,
now it’s here, and it’s simply wrong,
oh, our souls;
prisms dancing in rainbow hues,
music instead of morning news,
castles crumble for love of you,
this I know;
this is more than exotic love,
or melancholy erotica,
intoxicate me and take my blood,
and this grows;
neon skirt and transparent blouse,
among the stars living hand to mouth,
when we’re together it outweighs doubt,
this I know;
I can touch you without my hand,
I can clothe you in astrakhan,
I can love you without a plan,
oh our souls.

Sunshine and stars shine,
and it makes me wonder
if the only thing within the sky
or under…
if the only thing out of step
with its harmony
is the human race,
and the love of we;
but aesthetic perfection is not the same
as being truly perfect in the cosmic game:
the sun burns chaotic, the stars drift agley,
and the universe
unravels
infinitely.
If there is a grand design,
it must look like my room:
too far gone now to be helped by a broom,
and when Order itself stands against God’s intent,
is it really so strange Love has our consent?

Sunshine Psychedelic
on a hot summer day
you’ve an appetite for rocks,
and you’re coming my way
(it’s actually spring,
but come anyway);
mushrooms on parade
in this pretty how town,
you’re the bell I want floating upside-down.
Dig:
the fashion displayed
and the colors arrayed
and the children at play,
but the stones you hold
are what turns the day.
Within our hands we turn to clay,
we mold ourselves warm
and wet
and God, but we need a space private and away.
Sunshine Psychedelic,
you take every pose:
coquettish and coy,
inviting sans clothes,
the thoughtful intellectual,
the playful tease,
the mourning heart,
the one to please,
and I’ll love them all,
each and every one:
I’ll make love to each facet
’til you tell me you’re done.
Sunshine Psychedelic
on a hot summer day
I’ve an appetite for pie,
and I’m coming your way.

Daydream darling,
I decorate a psychic space for you:
this space is filled with colors,
filled with textures
and tastes;
dark chocolate M&M’s
silken paisley, astrakhan
green and blue and purple and black
and every other shade has a turn
on its back.
Rainbows in bottles,
artistic banal
it might be mundane
but I’ll color it all,
I’ll color your world,
I’ll color it all.
Floral prints and gothic refrains
the goal is not to mask the pain
but make it palatable,
a bit more sane
in the madness of our love,
in antique daisy chains;
daydream darling,
awaken me
awaken all
that we could be,
as we defy
normality,
every law
including gravity,
connect and drift
on astral tides,
heal me and
consume my love,
my life.

Silken joy descends upon me,
black lace love, diaphanous deep,
the night has not been made for sleep
and neither has this day.
Smooth and wet, you whet my stone
and sharpen our desire,
sparks fly when the whet stone meets
such soft and sharp edges
beneath.

We meet in the gap,
an opening
that creates life and love and good,
so fortunate I, tis welcoming
though I am a thief,
a corsair meandering
along this wood.

In mere moments,
unraveling
all the futures I had seen,
replacing them in shades of green
and love.

Disappear,
we are wandering,
two corsairs foreign and far away
together through the mystic days,
unseen.

Poems are my first hand emotions. The molten lava within me that overflows with tectonic shift of time, I just scribble and present it before you. Poems are the first tool that taught me to express and that too without any prejudice or bias. I have promised myself to continue with it throughout my life.

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